But somehow, just saying the words out loud helped. The tightness in my chest eased, if only a little, and the quiet felt less suffocating than it had when I’d first arrived.

I wiped at my cheeks, standing and brushing the dirt off my knees. “I should probably get back. The pub’s not going to run itself, now, is it?”

I hesitated, glancing back at the headstone one last time. “I’ll figure it out, Maggie. I’ll do you proud.”

I had no idea how just yet, but I had a feeling the answer lay in what Maggie always told me:“Run toward things, Dee, not away.”

CHAPTER19

Jax

The thing about rich people was that they couldn’t resist talking about their money. It was like a reflex for them—drop a few names, toss out a couple of numbers, and bask in the satisfaction of being the loudest (and richest) voice in the room. And if there was one thing I’ve learned from years of being part of the Charleston elite, enjoying sponsorship deals, attending celebrity events, and playing at over-the-top golf charity games, it is that you could always count on that loudest voice to spill the beans, which is why I called Gilbert “Big Gil” Hampton.

“Jax, you son of a bitch!” came the booming voice on the other end of the line, loud enough to make me reduce the sound on my earbuds.

“Big Gil, how’s it hangin’?”

“Buddy, you know with me, it’s always hanging…big.” He laughed. “I haven’t seen you since that championship game you won in Pebble Beach.”

“That was some game.”

“Where you at these days?”

“Right now, I’m in Ireland, came for a charity golf thing, and am stayin’ a bit—got some meetings in London and Dublin with sponsors.”

I smiled at Saoirse, who came into the pub through the kitchen. We weren’t open yet, which was why I had spread myself out on the bar. My laptop was open. My phone was fully charged, as were my ear buds.Andso was my brand-new mobile 5G router that Brad had sent over when I bitched about the reception in Ballybeg. It was a fuckin’ miracle.

“Where in Ireland? I’m buyin’ some property there. Buildin’ a new golf resort. You’re goin’ to love it.”

He’d taken the bait. It was as easy as sinking a three-foot putt on a green so smooth it practically guided the ball for you.

“Well, I’ll be damned, Gil. I’m in County Clare,” I pretended to be all surprised.

“No shit.” He guffawed. “That’s where I’m buyin’ the land. Working with some local developers. Buyin’ an entire village. We’re going to turn it into the nicest golf community Ireland has ever seen.”

Feckin’ hell!

“No kidding. Where? Maybe I should check it out.”

“Wait a second.” I heard him bang his keyboard. “Ballybeg…that’s the name of the village.”

“Right.” I knew it, but that didn’t make the confirmation slide down my throat any easier.

“Hey, Jax, you want in? Your Daddy is interested.”

Of course, he was.Feckin’immoraleejit!

“Tell me more,” I urged like I was interested.

There was a pause, followed by the sound of him lighting a cigar. I could practically hear the grin in his voice when he spoke again. “It’s a beautiful little place. Quiet, picturesque, real postcard stuff. It’s gonna make a killing once the resort goes up.”

“Oh, you’ve seen the place?”

“Nah, got a guy there who sent me photos.”

“Buying something unseen, Gil? That’s not like you.”

He laughed. “I know Ireland, and I know County Clare.”